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warm summer days, this youthful teacher and pupil were seen strolling together in the park, or seated, books in hand, beneath the shade of some wide-spreading tree, industriously pursuing their studies.
But of all the verbs in the language, the one which most interested this pair was aimer, "to love," and they learned to conjugate its various moods and tenses, which led, in their regular course, at last, to marriage. This took place in the autumn of 1665, when Eleanora was twenty-six years of age. Her title then became Lady Von Harburg, from an estate so called, belonging to the duke.
This union proved a most happy one; for, with mutual affection, confidence, and respect, the duke and his wife held their little court free from the intrigues and anxieties that ruffled the peace and happiness of most of the more important ones of their day. The only fault that her subjects ever found with the high-minded, estimable Lady Von Harburg was, that she surrounded herself with French attendants; but it is no wonder she preferred to do so, if we consider that she was always regarded by the jealous Germans as an intruder, even though she had united her interest with theirs by marrying one of their countrymen. So long as her husband approved of her choice of attendants, Eleanora heeded not the railings of the envious; but occupied her mind and time with wholesome, sensible pursuits.
A.D. 1666. Her first child, the subject of this history, was born on the fifteenth of September, 1666. She was named Sophia Dorothea, which means, Wisdom, the gift of God, and she needed an unusual amount of this endowment, when she became a woman, to support her under the miserable trials a cruel husband laid upon her. But we must not tell about that yet. As a child, Sophia Dorothea was a source of delight to her fond parents, and filled their home with sunshine and happiness. Alas! if they could have looked into the future, sooner would they have laid their little darling in the grave than see her live to drag out a weary existence to its bitter end. Perhaps it is well that they could not, for they had three other children that died in infancy; and consolation for their loss was always to be found in the possession of their charming, interesting, constantly improving little Sophia Dorothea.
Under all her trials, the mother proved herself a true woman, and so increased her husband's respect and esteem for her that he became anxious to have her title equal to his own; for, at the time of their marriage, there had been some complications that prevented. So he set to work to accomplish this, and after a vast amount of trouble, petitioning, delay and expense, at last succeeded. Then the Lady von Harburg became Countess von Wilhelmsburg and Duchess of Zell. This gratified the duke, though it did not enhance his wife's happiness, for she had been perfectly contented before, and craved no title more lofty than the one she had.
Nothing ever interfered with the care for her little daughter, who was tenderly and religiously trained; and unspoiled by the flattery that would have been showered upon her, had anybody suspected that she was one day to become Queen of England. When Sophia Dorothea was about seven years of age, she had for a playfellow, Philip von Kônigsmark, whose father was a warm personal friend to the duke. Philip was at Zell, at the time of which we speak, for purposes of education, and spent most of his leisure hours with the little girl in the garden of the palace. These two children became very fond of each other, and the gossips about the court shook their heads knowingly as they prophesied a future marriage, in an undertone. But they were false prophets, for a very different fate awaited the two guileless, happy children.
A.D. 1673. Before Sophia Dorothea had reached the age of ten, Philip was called back to his old home, and for awhile he passes out of our story, although we shall hear more of him some years later. The little girl missed him sadly at first, but other companions were provided for her, and she soon became reconciled to the absence of Philip. She continued her studies, and gave early promise of becoming a handsome, virtuous, accomplished woman. She was an heiress too, and that by no means diminished her attractions. To be sure, her fortune was not large; but fifteen thousand pounds was better than nothing,—at least so thought her cousin, Augustus Frederick, Crown-Prince of Brunswick-Wôlfenbuttel, who sought her hand a few months after the departure of Philip von Konigsmark. Sophia Dorothea was fond of this young kinsman after her child fashion, and so a formal betrothal took place. But Augustus Frederick was a soldier, and according to his ideas of chivalry, he could not claim his lady love until he had distinguished himself on the battle-field; so, filled with courage and hope, he bade farewell to the little girl, and marched to the siege of Philipsburg. He fought valiantly, and, like a true knight, proved himself worthy of the little lady of his choice; but alas! towards the close of the battle, a fatal bullet put an end to his existence. Thus was Sophia Dorothea deprived of a husband whose death affected her only slightly at the time, but whom she learned to regret many years later, and no doubt thought with the poet:—
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: 'It might have been.'"